


Shackled

by spideywriting (catch_you_later)



Series: whumptober 2019 [9]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Eventual Happy Ending, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Isolation, Lost - Freeform, May Parker (Spider-Man) Dies, No.9, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Tony Stark Has A Heart, altno.6, do not copy to another site, no.30, no.7, shackled, whumptober2019
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-09
Updated: 2019-10-09
Packaged: 2020-11-28 11:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20966069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/catch_you_later/pseuds/spideywriting
Summary: Aunt May dies.Peter is lost inside his head.(But somehow, he finds his way back again.)





	Shackled

**Author's Note:**

> Un-betaed.

It's different. Hearing about an accident and being there.

When you hear about an accident, you can always construct the images yourself. Sometimes you make it worse; when you hear someone’s in a hospital, you automatically assume the worst – pale and bruised and bloody skin, sunken eyes, a hollow presence.But if the accident is fatal, you will most likely try to make yourself believe that it wasn’t that bad, that the person died immediately, that they didn’t feel any pain.

If you’re there, you can’t pretend.

You’re stuck with the images, the soul crushing reality of it all. You can try pretending the memories are not real, but in the end, you can’t escape reality.

Not when you see with your own eyes how the bullet steals the life from your Uncle's eyes agonizingly slowly, and how the unforgiving concrete crashes against your Aunt's skull. How her body keeps twitching even after her heart stops. 

The images are forever seared into his retinas, never truly disappearing. Always there, a concrete and inescapable reality. He can't undo them or reverse them. 

But oh, how Peter wishes he could. 

* * *

Peter is stuck within his mind. Some days it plays a horror film of his worst memories on an endless loop. (Concussions, bullet wounds, bruises, cuts, crushed ribs, splattered brain matter, last breaths.)

Other days his mind is foggy, thoughts floaty and sparse. Distant. Those days it hurts less, but coming back always scares Peter more than the 'horror film days' ever do.

He's lost and imprisoned at the same time.

And he can’t escape.

It’s his own mind turning against him, and there's no escape.

* * *

Uncle Ben always said, that sometimes courage was going to bed and trying again tomorrow.

Peter has tried.

He tries day after the day, gets up in the morning, goes to school, speaks, smiles and laughs. Exists.

But no matter how hard he tries, it’s all hollow.

Somehow Peter thinks that this wasn’t quite what Uncle Ben had meant.

* * *

He’s become restricted. Diminished. His smiles are smaller, his voice is quieter, his movements subdued.

Sometimes he can practically feel the cold, freezing shackles tightening around his arms, legs, chest, heart, lungs.

Those are the worst days.

* * *

The smallest things can make him freeze. Can lock up his muscles and his voice until he’s an effigy of himself.

_(He can’t escape.)_

Mr. Delmar’s sympathetic eyes as he goes to the bodega to pick up his daily sandwich.

Someone wearing the same perfume as her.

Hearing anyone say “larb”.

Being in Queens.

_(But he has a responsibility.)_

* * *

Most days, either his friends or Mr. Stark can tell when he’s having a particularly bad day. Those are the days of physical comfort and distraction tactics, brief hugs and shoulder pats, cuddles and movie nights.

Other days his mask is too strong, too fixed, sticking close to his face and fooling everyone perfectly.

Those days he feels the most isolated. Like the deep murky well of grief and darkness sets him apart from others, creating an unbridgeable rift between them.

* * *

It's a bad day again when Mr. Stark comes home with a puppy. 

She's 3 years old, energetic and sweet. 

Peter takes one look at her brown, trusting eyes and feels his heart thawing, making room for something more than grief and apathy. Something better. 

From that day on, the dog and the boy are inseparable.

Peter spends endless hours taking her on walks, playing with her, scratching her and just spoiling her rotten. In turn, she nudges him out of his flashback-induced disassociation fits and climbs onto his lap whenever everything is too much, staying patiently still as he cries into her brown, soft fur. 

(They name her Lucky. In their little tragedy prone family, they could do with a bit more of luck.) 

* * *

Time passes.

Most days are still bad, but slowly, oh so slowly, they start to decrease in numbers. And even the badness doesn't feel as bad when he has Mr. Stark, Happy, Ned, MJ, Miss Potts and Lucky by his side. 

Other days he’s building his sense of self back, piece by piece. He’s more aware, more present. He can joke and laugh again without the horrible emptiness gnawing his insides. He can shower Lucky in affection without getting lost in his head in the process. He can talk about May without crying. He can feel like himself again. 

He still misses May. Always will.

But now, he can _live_ again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this, please drop a kudo and/or a comment, I would really appreciate it! <3


End file.
